


Ashes

by Claire



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-11
Updated: 2006-05-11
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: You wait until you're alone





	Ashes

Your fingers trail down your chest, skimming your nipples as they move over your skin. They reach your stomach before you pull them back, attention going back to the hardened nubs. You roll a nipple between your finger and thumb, pinching just hard enough for it to hurt.

Your cock throbs and you reluctantly pull your hand away, your fingers returning to their downward course. The hair on your stomach gets tighter, coarser as your fingers finally reach their mark.

There's a sharp intake of breath as you wrap your hand around the thick column of flesh standing upright. You know it's you. It has to be; you're the only one here and the door is locked. Locked against Atlantis, locked against the people. Locked against any who would drag you out of here. Locked against _solve this_ and _fix this_ , against _help us_ and _save us_. Against the idiots who hear your words and don't understand them. Locked against those who don't know that you're making half of this up as you go along and relying on your mind to be able to follow through.

And it's locked against hazel eyes that look at you, knowledge shining in them. Because he knows - _knows_ \- that you're all one step away from disaster, one equation away sinking so far down you'll never get back up. He knows it and he trusts you anyway.

The grip on your cock tightens, knowledge and trust and hazel all wrapped up in a parcel of want. You want him and you shouldn't. He's too pretty, too straight, too much like the guys you avoided at university.

Only that isn't fair. You know he's none of those things. He's a little too broken to be pretty, scars decorating skin in a way that seems almost like sacrilege. And even if you tell yourself he's straight, you know the way he meets your gaze and holds it for just too long gives lie to that thought.

He's nothing like those guys; nothing like the ones who sucked your cock and then asked you to write their papers for them. He's nothing like that, and that's why it's dangerous. It's dangerous because when you look at him you don't just see the sex – frantic and hurried in anonymous encounters. You see soft words spoken into darkness and careful touches that happen under eyes that shouldn't see.

So you make yourself not see it when he looks at you, make yourself turn away when you realise you're looking back. Shut it all away until it leaks out bit-by-bit and you find yourself alone in your quarters. That's when you let it out. When you're alone and unseen; when the moonlight looks like ashes and the come on your fingers tastes like tears.


End file.
